


The One Who Rules

by Gerec



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since the Mutant Uprising, the powerful and ruthless General Magneto now the defacto ruler of the tiny island nation of Genosha. Though it remains a paradise of plenty, left relatively untouched by war, the safety and stability of the 'mutants-only' state remains in flux.</p><p>Devastated by the bombs Sebastian Shaw set off before his death, the human population outside Genosha has largely been decimated. The ones who remain struggle to survive with rapidly dwindling resources.</p><p>Adding to the uncertainty is the presence of the X-Men, mutants fighting Magneto and his Brotherhood for the rights of humans still living in Genosha, led by the General's former lover and co-leader of the Uprising, Professor X...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thatkindoffangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkindoffangirl/gifts).



> _Based on this prompt: In a post apocalyptic world, Erik is the warlord of a fallen city, and most of the xmen cast lives under his reign - which is all but democratic. A group tries to rise against him and fails. Bonus points if the punishment involves sex._
> 
>  
> 
>  **To OP** : I had a lot of fun writing this story and hope you don't mind the slight deviations I made from the prompt! Happy Secret Mutant and I hope you like the story!
> 
> To the wonderful and incredibly talented **Black_Betty** : Thank you for ALL your help with this fic - helping me shape the plot and giving me feedback on what worked and what didn't. :0) The story is 10x better with your input I can't thank you enough!!!
> 
> Also: please see notes at the end for additional **warnings**!

The view from the main chambers of the Genoshan Legislative Assembly building is breathtaking, an expanse of rich green pastures and farm land surrounded by the deep blues of the Indian Ocean. Facing away from the city and perched on top of the highest hill in the Capital, it’s easy to imagine an island paradise, a Garden of Eden for his people hard fought and won.

Magneto ignores the voices behind him, breathing in the fresh morning air and exhaling slowly, easing some of the tightness in his neck and shoulders. Bracing his hands on the smooth marble railing he takes another deep breath, straightening his helmet and cape slightly before turning from the balcony to rejoin the heated debate.

The arguing continues without pause as he enters the room, the members of his council used to his abrupt departures and reappearances in the middle of their sessions. They are all still seated at least, which he will count as a positive sign though the tension in the room is palpable. He moves to his own spot at the head of the long table, silent as he watches - and waits.

“You don’t actually think this will work do you?” Emma Frost sighs, the telepath’s impatience barely discernable but for the click, click of her long finger nails on the smooth oak surface. “You trade him for his brute and what? Lock him up here indefinitely? His people will raze this building to the ground to rescue him.”

“Well you can’t kill him!” Tempest slams her hand down, diaphanous wings unfurling in agitation and nearly knocking the glass of water over if not for Riptide’s quick intervention. “No matter what’s happened he’s the _Professor_. If it weren’t for him _some_ of us would still be locked up! And many mutants still love him despite his campaign against our government, not to mention what’s left of the humans. If you kill him we’ll lose supporters for sure.”

Emma shakes her head, ice blue eyes narrowing as she answers, “He’s too dangerous to leave alive. He’s a figurehead, a rallying point for the resistance. Charles Xavier is charismatic and brilliant and the sole reason this civil war has dragged on for _five years_. Kill him and the rest will scatter and we can go back to running the country instead of playing hide and seek with his precious X-Men.”

“Ah but you run the risk of making him a martyr,” Azazel says, tail curling upwards to scratch his cheek absently. “Killing him outright might backfire on the Brotherhood and generate more sympathy for his views. I don’t really care if Xavier lives but I do care that his death might destabilize Genosha even more than this so called war.”

There is silence for the next few minutes, the others turning to Riptide expectantly for his input. The man takes a slow drink of water from the glass he rescued previously, turning to face Magneto and looking at him directly before he speaks.

“Professor X was… _is_ my friend,” he says carefully, “he was one of us. He helped kill Shaw and rid us of the humans who enslaved us. If we can get him back…well I’d rather have him on our side. And maybe if we go through with the exchange he’ll be more receptive to ending his opposition to our government.”

Emma laughs, cold and deliberately mocking of the sentiment behind the other man’s words. “Yes, I’m sure he’ll just miraculously change his mind overnight and let us do what we want without a fuss. It’s absurd to think he’ll settle for anything but full citizenship and equal rights for his human pets. Why would—”

“Enough,” Magneto barks, waving his gloved hand impatiently for silence. “The prisoner exchange is happening; I’ve already sent him word to come for his lieutenant.”

Azazel shakes his head, sighing audibly before he asks, “You’re really just going to let the Wolverine go? Now _that_ one is dangerous; you release him and no matter what happens, the man will never stop fighting us. He’s Xavier’s guard dog and his right-hand and there’s no one in the world more loyal to Professor X.”

Indeed, Magneto is well aware of the man’s closeness to Xavier, hints of something _more_ between the two whispered to him by his own spies and echoed by the populace, eager to romanticize all aspects of the man whose supposed heroics have all but stalled Magneto’s plans for a mutants-only nation.

“The Wolverine is nothing but a convenient means to get Xavier here,” he answers mildly. “He and the X-Men will accomplish nothing without the Professor to mastermind their activities.”

They are interrupted by the chamber doors flying open, his own second-in command Mystique moving to the front of the room with a few long strides. Sparing barely a glance at the others she announces, face inscrutable, “He’s here.”

They all stand as one with the exception of Magneto, who stays seated as the others move to flank him. There is anticipation there from his team, and some fear, though he knows it’s more for Xavier’s inestimable intelligence than his mild empathic abilities. “Did he come alone?”

A smirk crosses her lips for a split second, meant only for Magneto. “No.”

Emma’s laugh rings loudly through the room like a bell, her attention only now returning to the people in the room since Mystique’s announcement. Seemingly delighted she looks over at the others and chuckles. “Naughty boy! He's brought his whole team with him. And a rather large crowd gathered at our doorstep.”

“They’re here to break the Wolverine out?” Azazel growls, his laid back stance shifting immediately to high alert.

“No,” she answers, before looking rather pointedly at Magneto. “The X-Men are here to support Xavier. The crowd is here to ensure Magneto doesn’t go back on his word regarding the prisoner exchange. Or kill them both without a trial.”

“And how did you miss this little development?” he snarls at her. “A crowd is hardly an easy thing to conceal from a telepath of your caliber.”

She shrugs, amusement unaffected by the irritation in Magneto’s voice. “He has more than one of his telepaths out there blocking me and the people you have on patrol. Jean Grey and Psylocke at least, maybe more.”

“He came inside by himself,” Mystique interrupts, “Sabertooth is with him now. He’ll bring him in when you’re ready.”

He gives her a brisk nod, her cool efficiency and steadiness under pressure reminding him once again how grateful he is that she chose to stay with them after the Uprising. “Bring him in.”

The atmosphere in the room is electric, the council bracing for what they expect will be veritable fireworks when Magneto sees Professor X again for the first time since their acrimonious split. Magneto’s obsession with his former friend and comrade is an open secret with all the members of the Brotherhood, his stance on the other man’s actions and beliefs fluctuating between guarded admiration and deadly rage. Only a select few know their full history together…and the circumstances that lead to Xavier’s departure only a few months after the pair succeeded in wresting control from Genosha’s former government.

His own anticipation is almost tangible, throat dry and eyes fixed on the open doors to the council chamber. The few glimpses he’s had of the Professor in the ensuing years have been fleeting and unsatisfying; images plucked from surveillance or news cameras, a flash of leather in yellow and blue. He wonders how much has changed in the man he once knew so well. The man who was the other half of him before he became Magneto’s number one detractor.

It feels like travelling back in time the moment the empath walks into the room, confident strides unencumbered by the restraints on his wrists; blue tie, sharp grey blazer and cream slacks more akin to an academic than the leader of the rebellion. This is the Charles Xavier he remembers - a self-possessed, dominating presence even in a room filled with Magneto’s most powerful mutants.

The Professor smiles before taking a step forward, only to have a heavy hand grab him roughly by the shoulder, yanking him back. “Don’t move,” Sabertooth snarls, his words dripping with contempt, “or I’ll break your legs, _Professor_.”

He doesn’t get a chance to say another word, his own dog tags whipping around his neck like a steel noose, the chain digging deep welts into soft flesh. Clawing desperately at the tags and struggling to breathe, he lets go of the Professor abruptly and drops to the floor, face turning a distinct shade of purple before the chain eases slowly, leaving him coughing and gasping for air.

Mystique ignores him, slipping forward from her place beside Magneto to stand in front of Xavier. She takes the Professor’s hands in her own and smiles just as the handcuffs on the man’s wrists fall away, the liquefied metal reforming into a sphere and floating towards Magneto’s outstretched hand.

“Hello Raven,” Xavier whispers, reaching to cup Mystique’s cheek with one hand, sharp blue eyes glittering as she tilts her head into his touch. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Charles,” she answers with a soft sigh, “oh Charles. Me too.”

Magneto turns away from the siblings’ subdued reunion, giving Azazel quiet orders to bring the prisoner, the teleporter promptly disappearing from the room in a puff of sulfur.

He stands, cape swirling behind him as he stalks forward from his place at the head of the table, the others watching the scene unfold without comment. Mystique steps away from her brother at his approach, taking two steps back to stand behind Magneto, and the leader of new Genosha does not stop until he’s close enough to touch, using his taller frame to loom over the Professor.

“Welcome home, Charles.”

=====

**Prime Minister’s Residence – Two Weeks Before the Uprising**

_“Charles! Are you alright?”_

_“I’m alright Erik,” the other man whispers, his only life line to the outside world since Shaw locked him permanently in the glass and concrete cell beneath the labs. “I just had to entertain Shaw’s questions until he was satisfied. He needed to know that my research could be manipulated to suit his propaganda.”_

_Shaw's interest in Charles' research had been the reason for his lover's arrival six months ago, an invitation to meet and work alongside fellow mutants luring the young Oxford professor and his sister to Genosha. They had been happy with the decision at first; Charles given the brilliant Hank McCoy as an assistant to continue his work on the mutant gene and Raven free to discard her disguise and wear her natural blue form without fear. Their days had been idyllic; the siblings happily ensconced within Shaw's personal wing at the Prime Minister's mansion where the man himself was an honored guest._

_Things might have continued that way indefinitely if not for Erik's own fascination with the young professor; if Charles had not reached out in friendship to Erik, disregarding warnings to stay away from the dangerous mutant with the affinity for metal. If Erik had not shared his fears and his pain with Charles - of his work for Shaw and his parents' murder, and of Shaw's secret experiments on live subjects to prove mutant superiority - his lover wouldn't be trapped and collared as he was, subject to the megalomaniacal whims of a mad man._

_Erik wishes he could reach through the wall of tempered glass and take Charles’ hand in his own, driving away all thoughts of Shaw and their own precarious circumstances. To caress his palm tenderly and pull him close for a long, luxurious kiss. To taste the sweetness of Charles’ lips, so soft and warm, swollen from Erik’s lavish attention. It’s not enough – it’s never enough, a fleeting glimpse of freckle and skin that does nothing to quell his insatiable hunger for more._

_They stay huddled on opposite sides of the glass until the early morning hours, strategizing a rescue and escape plan for Erik and the other mutants being held captive. Too soon Charles has to make his way back up to his room on the third floor, not wanting his absence noted or Shaw alerted to his sporadic nocturnal visits._

_“Be careful. Don’t get caught.”_

_Charles grins, the quirk of his lips igniting the smoldering flare of warmth and desire in Erik’s gut. “You’d find me wouldn’t you? If I disappeared?”_

_His wide, answering grin belies the seriousness of his words. “If you disappeared,” he vows, “I would spend every moment of the rest of my life, looking for you.”_

=====

“Hello Erik,” the Professor answers, his expression polite yet guarded, showing none of the warmth Magneto remembers so vividly from his ex-lover. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he acknowledges, “I’ve been searching for you.”

The Professor’s face shutters at his words, his gaze holding steady against Magneto’s accusation. “Yes I know,” he answers, “I’m here now.”

“For Logan,” he scowls, voice dripping with scorn. “You’ve been hiding from me for years, ignoring my overtures to meet, and yet here you are ready to sacrifice your freedom for your precious _friend_.”

Azazel’s return cuts off any chance for a response, the Wolverine at his side snarling and bucking against the metal straitjacket Magneto personally devised for their prisoner. He is deeply, bone achingly satisfied at the shock that flashes across the Professor’s face, before the other man schools his expression and turns to him, voice taut with anger. “Let him go, Erik. _Now_.”

He does, unwinding the jacket slowly from Logan’s torso and arms though only after constricting it painfully one more time, dragging a ragged scream from the Wolverine as he crushes the man's ribs under the metal. The Professor is horrified as he looks on, waiting anxiously for Logan’s enhanced healing ability to mend his injury, Angel’s gentle grip on his arm the only thing holding him steady.

“Charles…what…” Logan pants, staggering over to Xavier who throws both arms around his shoulders, helping him upright. “The others…why…”

“Listen to me, Logan,” Charles interrupts, “Hank and Darwin are waiting outside. They’re going to take you back.”

“What about you?”

“The Professor is staying here,” Magneto interjects with a smirk, "as my own personal _guest_.”

Logan swirls to face him, claws out and poised to spring even though he and the Professor are woefully outnumbered, Emma and Azazel still flanking Magneto and ready to attack. It takes a yell and a firm grasp of Logan’s arm to keep him from lashing out recklessly, Charles slipping between the two men and bracing both hands on the Wolverine’s shoulders to calm him down.

“Listen to me, Logan. I need you to go and take care of the others. I need you to do this for me, _please_ ,” Charles entreats, his hands moving from his lieutenant’s shoulders to cup the sides of his face gently. “I’ll be alright, I promise.”

The hatred blazes like wildfire racing through his blood, swelling in intensity until it threatens to surge from every fiber of Magneto’s being. Charles – _his_ Charles – should never have left his side; never have had the opportunity to give anyone else the tender affection previously reserved for Erik.

“Azazel, get him out of here,” he barks and the teleporter obeys immediately, reaching to yank Logan out of Charles’ arms and disappearing in another puff of sulfur before the Professor has the chance to argue. He glares at Magneto but remains silent, his cautious gaze drifting over to the other mutants still standing silently in the room.

“Hello Angel,” he turns to Tempest who is still standing close, wrapping her in a warm embrace that she returns with the eagerness of her more youthful days. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great Professor.” She beams, not bothering to hide the affection she holds for her former mentor and says, “You look good.”

Charles smiles and his gaze moves to Riptide, standing quietly to one side but seeming no less excited to see the wayward mutant. “Janos! Have you been keeping up with your piano lessons?”

Emma snorts, rolling her eyes at the scene, more akin to a family reunion than the Brotherhood finally taking their greatest threat into custody. The others ignore her, their attention focused on the Professor, and Riptide answers the man with a genuine smile of his own, “Yes I have, Charles. Perhaps I can play for you some time?”

“Enough,” Magneto cuts in with impatience, barely suppressing the urge to ‘help’ them all out of the room physically. “Leave us, all of you. Now. Charles and I have things we need to discuss.”

=====

**Prime Minister’s Residence, Staff Quarters – Two Months Before the Uprising**

_There’s never enough time, Erik thinks, their furtive meetings always secretive and under the cover of night. He shudders to think what Shaw would do if he discovered the two of them together, the man's warnings to keep his distance ever present in the back of Erik's mind._

_He kisses Charles with a desperate edge, their every touch hurried and rough as he presses down and thrusts in, hard and deep, eliciting a gasp and a shiver that makes Erik groan raggedly in response._

_After, with the feel of muscular thighs still ghosting around his hips, his softening erection embedded in the warmth of his lover he dares to whisper - words he’s spoken to no other since before Shaw, before his parents died – “I love you.”_

_“Oh Erik,” Charles murmurs, eyes sparkling and smile radiant, and Erik can’t help but lean down and press his lips to Charles’ for another soft, fervent kiss. “I love you too, darling. Only you.”_

=====

They walk in silence, a shoulder’s width apart, Charles keeping step with Erik’s long strides down the bustling corridors. There are unsubtle stares from the many mutants they pass, deliberately crossing their path or peeking from their offices to bear witness to this historic moment; General Magneto and his nemesis Professor X, strolling together down the vaulted marble halls that house Genosha’s all-mutant government. Charles locks eyes with all of them, those who are openly adoring and those eyeing him with suspicion and mistrust - both are treated to the same disarming smile that never leave the curve of his lips.

Their journey takes them away from the administrative section of the old colonial styled building to the residences, their steps echoing loudly in the empty hallways of the South wing. Erik leads them up the winding staircase to the fourth floor, stopping at the end of the corridor in front of a metal door without any visible lock or handle.

He can hear Charles chuckle beside him, remarking with fond amusement, “Ingenious and paranoid. How very appropriate, Erik.”

The door swings open at the slight flicker of his wrist, the weight of the steel reverberating as it hits the wall with a low thud. He walks ahead into the spacious sitting room, removing his helmet and stripping the long leather gloves off his forearms before turning to Charles, still standing by the door way with a puzzled expression on his face. “This doesn’t look like a cell. I was expecting less comfortable accommodations.”

Erik gifts his ex-lover with a dangerous smile. “These are my chambers.”

The confusion clears slightly but there’s still the faint hint of a frown on Charles’ face. “What are we doing here?” he sighs, wiping his face tiredly with one hand. “What do you want, Erik?”

He swings the door shut with an echoing clang, the metal edges molding together to form a solid wall of steel, effectively sealing them both inside. Erik closes the distance between them slowly, akin to a panther stalking his prey and grasps Charles by the elbow, guiding him to take a seat on the sofa.

“We’re here to discuss your crimes against Genosha, Professor. And to negotiate the terms of your imprisonment.”

=====

**Prime Minister’s Residence – The Mutant Uprising**

Erik, wake up. Erik. We have to hurry.

_He jerks awake to Charles’ voice inside his head, and when he opens his eyes the reinforced glass doors to both his cell and the outer observation chamber are sliding open without a sound. Erik leaps from his cot and runs out, passing beyond the concrete barriers before bumping into Charles who is panting from his sprint from the control room one floor above._

_Charles throws his arms around him and hugs him tight, and Erik is shaking in relief to see that he’s unhurt. Following his train of thought Charles kisses him hard and says, “I’m fine. It just…it took a little longer than I expected to steal the codes, that’s all.”_

_“What happened?”_

_A grimace flashes across Charles’ face that he tries to hide immediately, his expression evening out except for the slight furrow of his brow. Erik grabs his arm and turns him around, face hard and hands tense with trepidation. “What happened Charles?”_

_Eyes dart away to the side as Charles licks his lips, a subtle but telling sign of distress well hidden. When he looks back at Erik he tilts his chin up with determination and says softly, “Let’s just say it took a lot of convincing to get his helmet off his head.”_

_“What did—?”_

_“No,” Charles interrupts, raising his hand to stop any further questioning from Erik. “Now’s not the time to be morally outraged. I did what I had to do to get the codes for your cell and for the inhibitor collars. Hank was able to reprogram the system and unlock them all. We have to hurry and get the others out before reinforcements arrive.”_

_He takes off running, forcing Erik to follow him through the winding corridors and up the set of stairs to the main lab. From there they make their way to the other cells, breaking the metal locks easily with Erik’s powers, gathering enraged mutants behind them as they storm through the residence. Charles hesitates at the bottom of the staircase to the second floor, fingers at his temple, turning to Erik with a frown. “He’s not here.”_

_“Charles!”_

_They all look up at once, the sight of a bloody Hank McCoy with an arm hanging limp at his side, dragging himself down the stairs eliciting murmurs of fury and unease through the small crowd. Charles races up the steps and catches him as he almost topples forward, easing him gently onto the landing._

_“He left with Emma Frost,” Hank manages, a grimace contorting his face as Charles checks his wounds with a gentle and steady hand. “I tried to stop him but he set Azazel on me. I managed to knock him out but Shaw got away…they’re on their way to the base.”_

_Erik snarls, simmering anger threatening to erupt at the possibility of Shaw getting away. The tight grip on his arm and the sound of Charles’ voice somehow pulls him back from the edge, a wave of calm cutting through the mounting haze of hatred and rage._

_“Did you dispose of his helmet?” he can hear Charles asking McCoy, only the slightest hitch of his breath revealing the underlying worry._

_Hank shakes his head. “I didn’t have time. They surprised me before I could get it into the incinerator. Charles,” he grabs his mentor’s hand and says urgently, “He took it with him. And he has Frost. You have to be careful.”_

_“I can handle Frost,” Charles answers, eyes narrowing and voice tinged with distaste, “and we’ll just have to find a way around the helmet. Stay here and treat your injuries; we’ll go after Shaw.”_

_Erik watches silently as he speak to the others, organizing care for the wounded and assembling the mutants into various strike teams. The metal in the surrounding walls call to him, his fingers itching to reduce the building to rubble as the minutes tick by too slowly. Finally, Charles returns to Erik’s side with their own group; his sister Raven the shape shifter, Alex Summers with the ability to generate plasma blasts from his chest and Sean Cassidy with the sonic scream._

_“Remember what we discussed? We have to get to Shaw_ before _he sets off the missiles and wipes out half the bloody planet. Frost, we incapacitate. Be careful.”_

_The others nod as one and Charles turns to him, squeezing his arm lightly with a strained smile. “Ready?”_

_“Yes,” Erik answers, taking the lead as they exit the front doors of the mansion, bounding down the steps at full speed. “We stop Shaw at all costs.”_

=====

Charles smiles, allowing Erik to pull him down onto the sofa, sinking comfortably into the cushions as he stalks across the room to the mini bar. He pours them both a tumbler of his best scotch, handing it to Charles who takes the glass without hesitation. Erik watches with a keen eye as he takes a long, slow drink, imagining the burn of the alcohol as it slides down the pale, white throat.

“You’re really not one to negotiate, Erik,” Charles laughs and his voice is warmer now than it was in the main audience chamber, closer to what it used to be during their short time together. “Tell me, what’s there to negotiate? I’m here…the game is yours.”

He sets his glass down on the coffee table, reaching to take Charles’ left hand in his own. It feels rougher than Erik remembers as he smoothes a thumb across the soft meaty palm, tilting it up and over to place a light kiss on the wrist. Charles huffs softly in surprise but doesn’t move, staring intently with those bright blue eyes as Erik continues to kiss his hand, mouth warm and wet on the tip of each finger.

“Erik,” Charles says softly, “Erik, we need to—”

“Later,” he interrupts, taking the glass from Charles’ other hand and placing it next to his own, pulling him in until their faces are mere inches apart. “We’ll talk. Later.”

He leans in, closing the gap, breathing in the earthy scent so familiar even after all these years. Erik brushes those plush lips lightly with his own, gentle and with enough time for Charles to pull away but his ex-lover only sighs and opens his mouth, welcoming as he deepens the kiss.

They make their way into the bedroom without a word, Erik leading Charles by the hand, unfastening his cape and tugging the armor from his body piece by piece with his powers. Gripping Charles by the shoulders he proceeds to strip the Professor of his own metaphorical armor, peeling off the jacket and tie, sliding his trousers down his legs and unbuttoning his shirt carefully. Reverently. He kicks off his boots and then kneels in front of Charles, removing the man’s socks, shoes and then underwear - and judging by the hitched breathing and rapidly hardening cock - the last of the man’s reticence.

There are new marks across the previously unblemished skin, a long jagged scar on his chest that he strokes with a fingertip, causing Charles to inhale sharply. A shrapnel wound on his right thigh that Erik traces with his tongue, the skin around the raised flesh pebbling involuntarily as Charles looks on, his eyes dark and wide with desire.

“Erik,” Charles starts, and then stops abruptly as he's pushed gently onto the bed, splayed out onto wine colored sheets. He takes a moment to drink in the view, freckles dotting the broad, compact torso; the lean, supple muscles of runner’s legs; creamy skin contrasting beautifully against the deep purple silk.

“Erik,” the other man tries again, and promptly chokes back any more words as his cock disappears, sliding deep and perfect into the warmth of a ravenous mouth. Charles moans long and ragged then, hands clenched tight on the bed as he surrenders, rapidly losing his composure as slender fingers grip his ass and push him deeper down Erik’s throat.

The taste of Charles is addictive, unleashing a deep, possessive fire in Erik to own the man beneath him, solely and completely. He works his tongue along the hard shaft, relishing the shiver he drags from Charles when he licks the fluid leaking from the swollen tip. Erik hungers for every bit of him, sucking and teasing ruthlessly, watching avidly as he wrings breathless gasps and incoherent murmurs from someone so rarely at a loss for eloquent words.

Shifting his attention lower he slides down to circle the dark pucker, weaving a wet trail along smooth skin as he slowly works him open, smiling as Charles groans with pleasure, hard abdominal muscles flexing with each sloppy swipe of his tongue. The first finger goes in easily, eased by slick and Erik’s diligent attention, loosening the tight entrance. Pumping his finger in and out slowly is enough to distract Charles, beautiful in surrender with eyes shut and mouth panting as Erik reaches for the metal jar on his nightstand with his powers.

The container opens with a slight twist and then two fingers, slick with lubricant, slips back inside with ease. When a third is added Charles hisses, constricting almost painfully around Erik who attempts to soothe and distract with gentle kisses and the deliberate drag of his fingers over the sensitive bump of his prostate. Charles’ eyes fly open, chest heaving as he gasps, _“Oh god,”_ in response to the steady stroking and before long Erik is pushing his cock inside, feeling the walls unfurl to accommodate him.

His thrusts are slow at first, one arm under Charles’ knee and spreading him open, the other cupping the back of his head, pulling their mouths close for a kiss rough and deep. Charles is every bit as responsive as he remembers, his own hands roaming over Erik’s shoulders to caress his arms, following the curve of his back down to his buttocks, encouraging Erik with whispered demands to push _harder_. Go _deeper_. Erik obeys, pulling out and slamming back in, pressing Charles into the bed and fucking him with wild abandon.

It’s indescribable, the elation Erik feels having his lover back in his arms, to feel every inch of his cock sliding back and forth inside Charles’ tight heat. Every stroke is perfect, sending jolts of ecstasy down his spine, and every slam of his balls against soft flesh wrenches a heated grunt from Charles’ lips.

“Erik, please…Erik,” Charles pants, moving to slide a hand to his straining erection, whining when Erik catches it, pinning it forcefully to the bed.

“No,” he growls, voice ragged as he rocks faster, snapping his hips as Charles arches his back, pushing against him. “You’re going to come just like this with nothing but my cock inside you.”

Digging in for leverage, he grips Charles' hips and throws both his legs over his shoulders, deepening the angle of his thrusts. Charles stiffens and shouts, orgasm spilling white hot over his chest and stomach as Erik fucks him through it, neither slowing down nor gentling his grip until his own release crashes through him, filling Charles with his come, marking him as his own.

=====

**Prime Minister’s Residence, Master Suite – Three Days after the Uprising**

_Shaw is dead._

_He’s been dead for three days and yet Erik still feels his presence everywhere, the spectre of his tormentor, his parents’ murderer, taunting him from beyond the grave._

_Shaw is dead._

_He knows. He saw the blood, staining the concrete floors of the underground bunker. He put the steel bar through the man’s chest himself, as Charles held him still with this mind, aware but unable to escape._

_But his words to Erik haunt him still, spoken before they wrested the helmet from his head, smug and overconfident as always._

"Do you really think you can trust him, Erik?” 

"He’s on _their_ side, boy.” 

“He’ll turn on you, as he turned on me.” 

_Erik knows not to believe the declarations of a liar; knows well the psychological games Shaw loved to play and yet he can’t shake them completely from his mind, insidious whispers warning betrayal and heartbreak from the one person he trusts most._

_“You swore to me, Erik! We agreed to put the Prime Minister and his Cabinet on trial, to show the people of Genosha that we're better than our predecessors! That no one should be above the law!”_

_Charles is livid, his anger bleeding into the air around them, hands clenched tightly as they face off over Erik’s order to execute the defeated human government without trial._

_“They enslaved us, Charles,” he answers, his own temper flaring at the remembrance of atrocities committed by their human overseers; by their callous, inhumane treatment of the country’s mutant population. “They experimented on us, murdered us in cold blood. You didn’t honestly expect me to show them any mercy.”_

_His lover closes the distance between them, a hand reaching for Erik before dropping back to his side. “I expected you to keep your promise to me! To include me in your decisions, Erik! I saw what they did! Putting them on trial wasn’t excusing their actions, it was to show the world what happened here! To let everyone know that crimes against mutants would not go unpunished!”_

_Erik stands, his feet taking him from the desk to the large window overlooking the bustling courtyard below. “Do you know what the others call me, Charles?” he asks, and the other man seems surprised, his anger wavering at the sudden change in topic. “They call me the ‘Betrayer’, for the years I worked for Shaw, rounding up mutants for his experiments.”_

_Charles face softens, reaching to take Erik’s hand as he answers, “I know. You had no choice. Shaw threatened your parents.”_

_“Do you think it matters?” Erik snorts derisively, clutching Charles’ hand a little tighter as he continues, “Do you think they care that I had no choice? That he murdered them anyway? They only know that they were tortured because of me. I needed to do this to make it up to them. They had to know that I would never turn my back on them again.”_

_"They know you're not like Shaw, Erik. He was a crazy man with delusions of grandeur, based on views of mutant superiority and genealogy that had no real basis in science. You're nothing like him."_

_Charles' lips are pressed in a tight frown, eyes following Erik’s gaze to the view beneath their window. They can see Raven walking by with a group of mutant children trailing behind her, new residents of the confiscated mansion that will serve as home to the orphaned wards of state._

_Erik sighs, “I don’t want us to fight, Charles. There’s so much work for us to do to rebuild. To make Genosha a place where our people can be safe and be free.”_

_“And what of the humans here on the island? We have to discuss how to defuse the tension. Most of them are family members or friends of--”_

_“Let’s not discuss it right now,” he interrupts, tugging Charles away from the window and maneuvering him onto the bed, his hands already working to strip away the layers. “We’ll let the new Council vote on it.”_

=====

He is sprawled on top of Charles, enjoying a moment of rest from reacquainting himself thoroughly with every inch of a still familiar body, lips teasing and devouring the most sensitive spots – behind the ear, a pert nipple, the arch of his foot – and hands roaming over every muscular flex and curve. Charles looks on with an indulgent smile, arching against him and raising his arms for a long, languorous stretch.

Erik kisses him and murmurs into his lips, “Stay with me.”

“Well it’s not like I can go anywhere without my clothes,” Charles says with a laugh, “and I rather like this bed. It’s definitely better than a cell.”

“No,” Erik answers, kissing him harder, teeth nipping at the bottom of plush, swollen lips. “Not as my prisoner, Charles. Stay by my side and end this pointless civil war. Stay and help me rule the country, as you were always meant to do.”

Charles stares at him with such a fond expression on his face that Erik can’t help but feel hopeful at his lover’s response. “Will you give humans the same rights as mutants in Genosha, Erik?” he asks, a hand reaching to stroke Erik’s cheek as Charles continues, “will you negotiate trade agreements with what’s left of the world? To help them rebuild after the nuclear bombs that Shaw unleashed? Can we work for peace and co-existence instead of waiting for the humans to attack us for our land and our water?”

He freezes, the smile slowly slipping from his face as he listens with growing disbelief to the words coming out of Charles' mouth. Even now, laying naked and spent in Erik's bed, the man's thoughts are all about the humans he advocates. Pleading and needling and _negotiating_ with him for their happiness and wellbeing. Oblivious and uncaring of the pain and heartache Erik has had to endure since Charles' disappearance without a word; to the endless days and nights Erik spent searching every inch of Genosha for his missing lover. 

“You would have us give our precious resources to others instead of keeping them for Genosha? You want us to help those who would wage war on us and take by force what belongs to our people? What—”

“They’re growing desperate for food and water that hasn’t been contaminated. We have more than enough to feed everyone in Genosha ten times over and we can trade our surplus for things we lack here; infrastructure and building materials—”

Erik jerks away from his touch, barely choking back the anger cresting fast and violent. He grabs a wrist with one hand, extracting a hiss of pain that barely registers as he growls menacingly, “Is that all you care about, Charles? Your precious humans? Do you care nothing about our own kind? About Genosha? About me?”

“Oh course I do! Erik, I lo—” 

The grip tightens, a cry of pain, and then Erik is yanking pieces from the wrought iron headboard without thought, reshaping them as cuffs around Charles’ wrists and ankles. He ignores the protests falling from those traitorous lips, smothering them with his mouth as he drags the other man’s arms above his head, holding his legs up in the air and spread wide for Erik’s pleasure. Grabbing the discarded tie off the floor he fashions a gag for his wayward lover, watching as Charles struggles valiantly against his restraints. 

With a flick of his wrist the drawer to his nightstand opens, a large metal ball floating effortlessly into Erik’s hand. Charles glares at him, angry and defiant and so beautiful; it makes Erik want nothing more than to break down those defenses. To take this proud and arrogant man and bend him to his will. 

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he whispers, head bent close to nibble an earlobe before moving down to watch as he manipulates the shape of the sphere, stretching it into a large metal dildo that pushes inside Charles, sliding to fill him completely. His lover moans around the gag, a sound of pleasure edged with pain as Erik continues, “You will stay here and you will never try to leave again. You will help me run this country and you will let me fuck you in my bed or I will arrest every single one of your X-Men and execute them for crimes against the state, starting with your precious Logan.” 

He smiles as Charles lets out a muted scream, struggling in vain to get free, body straining against the metal fucking him open. Still loose and slick from their previous coupling the dildo finds no resistance, sliding in and out rhythmically at Erik’s command, Charles’ cock growing harder with each relentless stroke.

“Shall I tell you what I did to him,” Erik growls, the dildo slowly changing its shape, widening in barely noticeable increments as Charles bucks against the stretch. “How I broke a different bone in his body every time I thought of him touching you, Charles? Tell me, did he do a better job fucking you? Perhaps I’ll have to try harder to make it good for you.”

He proceeds to exactly that, pulling the spread legs even wider, positioning himself over Charles who is panting heavily through his gag. Taking the lube in hand he slicks himself up, stroking a few times to make sure he’s well covered and then braces himself between Charles legs, sliding in slowly - so very slowly - alongside the metal dildo.

He eases in, inch by agonizing inch, shrinking the metal slightly to accommodate the additional width of his cock inside the tight channel. Charles whines desperately as the gag is ripped away without warning, unable to form a single coherent word as Erik fucks into him, all but splitting him apart.

“Er…Eriiiik…,” Charles groans as Erik rocks gently back and forth, easing the way, getting him used to being doubly penetrated. He takes his time fucking him, relishing the smooth glide of the metal rubbing against them both; the overwhelming heat enveloping his cock as he slides in and out. It doesn’t take long before he’s picking up the pace, driving into the other man with an urgency that consumes him, jarring desperate heaving breaths from his lover.

He chuckles, hips slapping against Charles' ass, the sound punctuated by his lover's ragged moans as he taunts, "What would your X-Men think, if they saw you like this? Their esteemed leader, moaning like a whore around my cock." He bites down hard on the curve between neck and shoulder and Charles cries out, clenching tight around him. "They don't know you like I do, Charles. No one does. No one knows this but me, Charles. That your body craves this, to be taken and used."

Charles is panting, eyes wild and pupils dilated as Erik continues to plow into him, marking his skin with teeth and lips. Reaching between their sweaty bodies he takes Charles' cock and strokes, rubbing a thumb roughly over the swollen and leaking tip. Charles goes rigid in his arms, coming with a shout, the sound muffled as Erik leans in to devour every inch of his luscious mouth. The feel of it - the tight clench around his cock, the way Charles arches into the kiss - is enough to drag him over the edge as well, his orgasm tearing through him as Erik buries his cock to the hilt, spurting hot and deep inside his lover.

He slides out after a few moments, easing himself down from the rapturous high, taking in the sight of his perfect Charles, ruined and debauched. “I love you,” he says between tender kisses, his eyes drinking in the evidence of his claim, leaking from Charles’ entrance. “You're mine and I’m never going to let you go.”

=====

The gardens are as beautiful as Charles remembers, a vibrant kaleidoscope of colors against the stark whites and greys of marble and stone. He takes a deep, calming breath of the night air, the tropical breeze cool and refreshing as it washes over the denizens of Hammer Bay.

His path takes him around the perimeter of the sculpted space, empty except for the occasional rustle of the birds in the trees and devoid of even a single guard to ensure that Genosha’s most wanted criminal doesn’t attempt to escape his gilded cage. As though summoned by his thoughts the metal on his body chooses that moment to pulse – the wrist and ankle cuffs and a new, sleek silver collar - a physical and possessive reminder of Erik’s power and his ever present watchfulness over Charles’ every move.

That and the spectacular set of bruises that litter almost every inch of his aching body.

“ _Colchicum autumnale_ , such a pretty flower,” the voice of Emma Frost cuts through the quiet, halting the hand that’s tracing the petals of a bright purple flower with delicate yellow tips. “And poisonous.”

Charles chuckles and casts a glance over at Emma as she comes to stand beside him, answering wryly, “Is it? It looks quite harmless.”

She smiles at him in return, eyes glinting sharp and knowing in the moonlight. “It does indeed, Professor. Beautiful to look upon. Dangerous if not handled carefully. Best not to underestimate it.”

“An apt analogy indeed, my charming Lady Frost.”

She turns down the path and away from the gardens as Charles follows, walking side by side as they move to explore the grounds. A quick check of the immediate vicinity yields no other minds and Emma sighs, stopping just in front of an ornate balustrade at the cliff’s edge overlooking the water.

 _I didn’t expect you to actually follow through with this ridiculous plan_ , Emma says, her voice no less derisive when delivered telepathically into Charles’ mind. _Did Logan know you set this all up? His arrest? Your exchange?_

Charles purses his lips, fingers gripping a little too tightly on the railing, his own answer sent less than gently in response. _Of course not. He would never have agreed to let me come here if he knew the truth. I just wish he didn’t have to suffer…I underestimated what Erik would do to him._

She hums quietly in agreement but doesn’t respond, not usually inclined to sympathize with others, and even less so with Charles. Emma has always been both his strongest asset and toughest critic; a telepath of immeasurable power second only to his own. Much of his supposed ‘luck’ keeping the X-Men one step ahead of Erik’s reach these past few years has been due to Emma’s work, feeding him information as a member of the Council and part of his ex-lover’s inner circle.

 _I really can’t believe Magneto fell for it_ , she continues, sounding disappointed yet amused at the ease of Charles’ return to Erik’s side. _He’s brilliant_ and _paranoid and yet here he is, just welcoming you back with open arms? Doesn't he realize that inviting your enemy into your bed is foolish at best and suicidal at worst?_

Charles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress the wave of annoyance threatening to break loose. _We are not enemies, Emma. I love Erik. And he loves me._

 _All of Genosha is aware of the tragic love story between Magneto and Professor X, Charles_ , she chides. _Spare me the lecture and your morality induced hand wringing. I just want to know one thing – why now? Why wait when you could have done this five years ago?_

=====

**Prime Minister’s Residence, Master Suite – Three Months After the Uprising**

_Charles wakes to the sound of Erik’s quiet breathing in his ear, to Erik’s limbs sprawled possessively across his chest and to Erik’s half-hard cock pressed up against him, his body still nude and sore from the night before._

_He runs his hands through Erik’s hair, the soft curls on the top of his head limp and flat from the weight of the helmet he wears almost constantly now, just one more in the growing list of grievances between the two lovers. It’s to protect himself from Emma Frost and other potentially hostile psionics, Erik had argued, stating quite firmly that he can’t expect Charles to guard his mind 24/7._

_Charles knows it’s only half true. And that someday soon, the helmet will stay on even when the two of them are alone._

_He sighs, closing his eyes as he slips into Erik’s subconscious, putting the other man into a deep sleep. Gently and with great care Charles sets to work, reshaping his presence in Erik’s memories, erasing all traces of Charles as a telepath and weaving his psychic imprint through Erik’s shields to create a skeleton key to his lover’s mind. Hesitating, he considers for a moment the possibility of doing just a bit more; to ease Erik’s hatred and paranoia or to coax him towards a path of co-existence with humans._

_Reining himself back proves difficult, Erik’s brilliant and complex mind always a beacon tempting Charles to stay and take root. It’s the sharp determination and steel edges that define Erik Lehnsherr and ultimately he finds himself loath to tamper with anything more than he already has._

_He extricates himself from the bed with just as much difficulty, feeling cold and bereft as he pulls on his clothes and packs a few of his most precious belongings. Erik continues to sleep soundly as he moves around the room, looking so peaceful and content that Charles stops more than once to reconsider, before the reality of their escalating divide urges him on._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaning down to place a kiss on Erik’s lips. “I know you’ll be furious with me, but I can’t stay here anymore. I won’t help you build your mutants-only paradise if it means hurting people that have never done us any harm.”_

_A faint knock on the bedroom door draws his attention, Raven peeking in at Charles’ call to come in. She pulls her brother into her arms, rubbing his back soothingly as he takes a deep shuddering breath._

_“Are you sure about this?” she asks, keen yellow eyes gazing into mournful blue ones, “can’t you stay and work things out with Erik?”_

_He sighs, resting his head on her shoulder as he clings to her embrace, “No, I can’t change his mind without_ changing _his mind, Raven. And I don’t want to do that…I would never…not when I still have a choice.”_

_She nods, pulling back to take his hand, leading him out the door and down the stairs, his telepathy redirecting the attention of the few that cross their paths at this early hour. Logan is already in the garage, motorcycle ready and waiting to take them both out of Hammer Bay to the designated meeting place. He nods in acknowledgment but stays silent, allowing the siblings a few final moments to say goodbye._

_“You be careful,” Charles says softly, brushing a stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Everything is in place. The others will only remember me as an empath and no one will suspect you after our public falling out last week. Emma...she'll be able to reach me. Once I get settled.”_

_Raven nods, squeezing her brother’s hand tightly before pushing him towards Logan. “Don't worry. Emma and I will get in touch when it’s safe.”_

_"And Raven...promise me you'll take care of him. Please."_

_"I promise."_

=====

Emma doesn’t get an answer, their discussion interrupted by none other than Magneto himself, appearing seemingly from nowhere and threatening to kill her if she so much as thinks about touching a hair on the Professor’s head. She watches, amused as they retreat to their rooms, Erik holding Charles’ hand gingerly as though they were young teenagers in love.

She doesn’t see either of them again until three days later, when Magneto shows up to the Council Meeting with Charles at his side. Gone is the Professor’s suit jacket and tie; in its place an armored black bodysuit matching the one worn by Magneto, the silver collar and metal cuffs all but shouting the clear statement of ownership to the room and to Genosha at large.

They sit side by side at the head of the table, smiling amiably as the others try to make sense of what’s happened in the past few days. Azazel argues that the Professor can’t be trusted and is in a position to unduly influence him while Magneto waves away his concern, noting that Charles is an empath and not a telepath like Emma or some of the others on the Professor’s former team. That he isn’t a threat to Magneto who only takes his helmet off when the two are alone, their rooms shielded from external psionic interference. 

He tells them in no uncertain terms that Charles has agreed to stay and to help them run Genosha, putting an end to the conflict between the two sides once and for all. Granting the X-Men complete amnesty is the first step, Magneto continues, and the rest they will figure out together in the days to come. 

They exit the meeting with a flourish, extracting a promise from Emma to draft a public announcement explaining the Professor’s glorious return, to help usher in a new era of stability and prosperity for Genosha. 

_You would let him do this_ , she asks, reaching out to the Professor as he and Magneto make their way down the stairs, going over their plans to take a tour of the Capital and the surrounding countryside. Indicating the metal adorning his body, she continues with a huff - _You, an omega level telepath, who can break worlds apart with your mind. Why allow him to mark you as his property?_

 _Because, Emma,_ Charles explains, his voice soft yet brooking no argument, _this is how it has to be. His mind belongs to me and my body belongs to Erik and together, we will shape Genosha’s future. As it was always meant to be._

**Author's Note:**

>  **Warnings:**  
>  Consent in one sex scene in this fic is written to be purposefully unclear and may be construed as non-con. Non-graphic references to torture, though NOT between Charles and Erik.


End file.
